


Princess for a Price

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: Forced Moves: Gorim Saelac's Domination of Princess Aeducan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Begging, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Fucking, Former Relationship - Female Aeducan/Gorim Saelac, Hair-pulling, Impact Play, Implied/Referenced Child Death, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Knifeplay, Name-Calling, Object Insertion, Redcliffe (Dragon Age), Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Work, Shameless Smut, Smutquisition 2021, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping, as all dwarf smut should be, impact play - breasts, not safe or sane, sexy and problematic, this fic does what it says in the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29853399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Sereda Aeducan doesn't have coin to hire a mercenary to defend Redcliffe Village from the undead. Shedoeshave her body, though, and she's very willing to barter that for a blade.She does get a bit more than she asks for.
Relationships: Dwyn/Female Warden, Female Aeducan/Dwyn (Dragon Age)
Series: Forced Moves: Gorim Saelac's Domination of Princess Aeducan [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126205
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	Princess for a Price

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jarakrisafis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/gifts).



> I heard you wanted some problematic dwarf porn for Smutquisition. Enjoy!

“There’s nothing you want more than gold?”

Sereda knows it’s a mistake the minute the words leave her mouth. In truth, she’s desperate and she’s got little choice in the matter. There’s about to be a hoarde of corpses overtaking this strange human town full of wooden shacks, and all she’s got is a band of useless farmers with sharpened sticks.

Every blade counts, but she doesn’t have a gold piece to her name. _Ancestors_ , doesn’t that sting? She once barely batted an eye at losing fistfuls of coin at Diamondback or splurging on the newest surfacer silks. She wishes she had a _fraction_ of that back, but she’s got nothing but her sword, shield, and her warm body beneath her snug chainmail.

But she knows what men like Dwyn like, what they _want_. He’s just like every man who ever stared after her hungrily in Orzammar. The second the words are out, his face goes dark and hungry. One gauntleted hand smoothes his braided beard while eyes swing over her figure appraisingly.

“Sereda-” Leliana begins, stepping forward as if to block the gaze devouring her thoughtfully.

“Wait outside,” Sereda demands. For a second Leliana hesitates, torn between two conflicting urges. Her gray eyes swing down to Sereda’s, take in the determination in her eyes before she nods once and turns on her booted heel.

She hears Leliana say something to Sten, but Sereda doesn’t know what it is. She is alone with Dwyn and his mercenaries now, at their mercy. He waves them away and they step back, eyeing her curiously as Dwyn approaches.

“More than coin, _Aeducan_?” he hisses her family name like a curse. “What do you have to offer?”

He’s so close she can feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek, smell the polish of his armor. It reminds her of home in a way that makes her want to wail. She doesn’t look away from him, she only tips her chin up and makes her offer the way she was taught.

_Like it’s an ultimatum._

“Me,” she whispers. “You can have me however you want for one evening if I get your blade tonight.”

His eyes light up. She watches him chew that, thinking of his odds (they’re not good) and the prospect of having _her_.

“Two nights,” he declares.

“For one measly battle?” she huffs. “It’s hardly fair.”

His fist grabs her arm and yanks her close enough that his beard brushes her jaw when he whispers in her ear. “You’re in no position to bargain, _Princess_.”

It goes to her gut like pure liquor and turns her knees to jelly. She closes her eyes and sways lightly, the assent escaping her on instinct. “Yes sir.”

Dwyn’s fingers tighten on her arm until she makes a small whine of protest, although she doesn’t pull away. Her eyes flutter open and catch the triumphant gleam in his expression. “Sir, eh?” Dwyn chuckles before releasing her. “I could get used to that.”

She almost stumbles when he lets go of her. His grin is almost boyishly excited when he turns back to his men, leaving Sereda standing behind him trembling.

“She’s convinced me,” Dwyn says magnanimously. “Gather up our weapons. We’ll make these corpses wish they’d stayed dead.”

It’s in that moment that Sereda knows why she’s done it. It isn’t for his sword or his soldiers. It’s something else, something deeper and darker inside her that recognizes something in him.

Stone help her, he reminds her of Gorim and all the things he’s made her into, and _that_ is what she wants now.

More than that, it is what she _needs_.

* * *

Shockingly, they don’t die.

Perhaps Sereda shouldn’t be shocked. She’s survived the Deep Roads in exile and the follow Darkspawn horde at Ostagar, it may take the Archdemon itself to finally break her. For now, Redcliffe Castle stands silent, the possessed child within it dead, leaving the village safe and Alistair _furious_.

He’ll get over it. Her Ancestors left thousands behind in their race to outrun the Darkspawn, one of _her_ forebears closed the door and gave those still outside Orzammar to the Darkspawn on a silver platter. Sometimes hard decisions need to be made and she was born and bred to make them. It doesn’t matter if she hates them.

The grudgingly grateful Bann offers them rooms in the castle, but she declines. She has no use for a drafty Ferelden keep, so far from the sumptuous halls of her home. It’s barely better than the rickety tavern, which at least has the benefit of being far from the Arlessa’s keening sobs.

Mother died when Bhelen was born. Sereda can’t remember her except for the lingering vision of red velvet flickering in the light of the lava flow, vanishing forever around a corner. Funny how both mother and daughter ended up sacrificed for Bhelen. She wonders if her brother has thought of that yet.

Bhelen would have approved of the bleeding child on the floor, finally at peace and the castle safe without him, but that thought doesn’t bring Sereda any comfort.

All she can do is wait on the edge of her bed until someone raps their knuckles loudly against the ancient door. She stands on shaky legs and takes a deep, steadying breath before putting on her best Commander voice.

“Enter.”

For a moment, silence greets her. She has just enough time to think maybe it's Alistair come back, tail between his legs, to apologize for his anger. Instead the door flings open to reveal Dwyn, out of his armor in a plain, rough tunic and leathers. He takes one look at her and smirks.

“Nicely done, whore.” He wheels back to the door before she can think to sputter a halfhearted defense of her reputation. “Thought these humans were done for. Not that I’d have bothered crying, they’re a dozen a copper.”

Dwyn slides the bolt in the door, locking it behind him. The space seems so much smaller with his bulk filling it. He looks over his shoulder and huffs a dark laugh. “Not that you could have done it without me.”

 _That_ pricks her pride. She lifts her chin up and glares down her nose imperiously. “I didn’t need you.”

He crosses the narrow room with surprising speed, backing her against the bed while he grabs her chin between two rough, sword calloused fingers. Her heart flies to her throat and her fingers curl into her palms while he examines her closely.

“When I come to the brothel, I expect the merchandise to be ready.” He sounds so pleasant. Almost reasonable. It sends her heart racing immediately, warning bells sounding silently in her head. She knows that tone, she _recognizes_ it.

The sound of the knife being unsheathed almost makes her collapse in on herself in sheer relief. She doesn’t move when he brings it to the hem of her shirt and quickly slices the razor sharp edge up the cotton. It falls open, a puff of cool air against her sensitive skin. The metal is even colder when it slips beneath her stays and cuts the laces easily.

“Get out of the rest of it, slut, before I cut more than the clothing. Then get on your knees.”

Cloth slips down her arms to pool at the floor beneath her. Dwyn watches her bare herself to him with covetous eyes. They roam over her breasts, down her stomach, to the fingers that tug her breeches down the flare of her hips. She bends to pull them off entirely only to be roughly pushed down the second they’re off.

She stumbles to her knees and adjusts immediately into the position Gorim liked. Legs spread wide, showing her cunt and the trimmed blonde curls above her slit. Shoulders back, hands on her thighs, _fully_ exposed.

“Oh _Princess_ ,” Dwyn sounds delighted, “somebody has you trained. Is this how the Aeducans keep their Assembly in line?”

Shame brings a warm flush to her skin. She shakes her head. “No,” she states, voice shaking only minutely. “It wasn’t like that.”

“You had some noble lover?” he sneers. “Some jumped up lord who got high and mighty and you let him have his way?”

“Never,” she hisses on instinct. She’d never be on her knees for any mere Assembly lord, never…

“Then who made you into such a good little slut? I may want to send him a thank you card after I’m done fucking every one of your holes.”

Her throat grows tight, but she forces the words out. They don’t matter now, anyway. Gorim is gone, possibly forever. The surface is dangerous, after all, and he had been as penniless and lost as she. His odds of survival were only marginally better. “My second. From House Saelac.”

This answer pleases Dwyn. He reaches out and trails a thumb almost tenderly over her cheek. “That’s a good name, whore. Solid warrior caste, hm? No wonder you’re trained so pretty.”

His free hand goes to his laces, undoes them with a few quick movements and withdraws a cock nearly as thick as Gorim’s and already hard for her. He strokes it while his hand wanders up to her braids and sinks into them. “Open up.”

She does as directed, lips popping open immediately. She barely has time to draw one last, shaky breath before he’s stretching her mouth around his girth. She looks up like she’s been trained, her tongue circling the broad head of his cock while he pushes into her mouth.

He slowly thrusts forward, waiting for her to gag or buck she supposes, but instead she sucks eagerly.

Something changed the second her knees hit the floor. The illusion of control is far beyond her reach, the burdens of command slipping from her fingers. There is comfort in being back on her knees and at someone else’s mercy.

“Fuck _Princess_...” She shivers in delight when he groans her title like an obscenity. “ _Ancestors_ , I’m going to enjoy this.”

She sucks at his cock and the sound he makes is so deliciously filthy she can almost believe she has the upper hand until his eyes grow sharp and hard. The grip in her hair tightens. She moans around his length just before he thrusts hard into her mouth.

Instincts flare up, reminding her she can fight back, but the man above her barely gives her a moment to catch her breath. His fingers dig painfully into her braids, the sensation traveling to the complicated knot of arousal deep in her gut. Her cunt pulses treacherously while he fucks her mouth like she’s _nothing_ but a whore. A cheap, _casteless_ whore.

“Do you like this?” he hisses, yanking her hair back. “Must feel good to be back on your knees where you belong.”

She can’t deny it. All she can do is moan agreeably while he batters her throat until tears pop into the corners of her eyes and fall down her rounded cheeks. She struggles to gulp in air when she’s allowed a reprieve, which isn’t often. He moves her head back and forth for her, but she drags her tongue along his cock as best she can until he finally pulls back.

The taste of him lingers on her tongue, a string of saliva connecting them until it breaks. He pants, cock twitching, and she wonders how close he was to coming down her willing throat.

“Up,” he orders hoarsely, dragging her from her knees. She goes like a doll, allowing him to throw her over the bed. The height isn’t quite right, damn these humans and their high bed frames. Her tits are pressed against it, but her toes barely touch the ground.

The crack of his hand against her ass, the stinging ache of the blow on her flesh, makes her choke on a sharp cry that’s more pleasure than pain. “Legs spread.”

Her legs spread and he doesn’t wait before rough fingers skim her delicate flesh. He freezes and she holds her breath.

“What a wet, needy little whore you are.” Dwyn laughs, tracing her soaked folds. “All this, just from me fucking that noble mouth of yours?”

Before she can deny it, before she can lie through her teeth, his hand falls on unprotected skin again. There’s no hiding the deep, throaty moan that falls from her swollen lips as the burst of pain makes her cunt throb.

His fingers dig into her ass too hard, and it’s _perfect_. “Do you like that, Princess?”

The words are in her throat, but she can’t make them come out. Dwyn reaches between her and the sheets and grabs her tit roughly in his hand, pinching her nipple between his fingers until she makes a high pitched whine that’s half pain, half _need_.

“Yes,” she sobs as he twists her tender nipple in his fingers. “ _Yes_.”

He releases his grip on her breast. Both his hands grab her hips and squeeze harshly. “I’m going to have fun with you, Princess.”

The dark tone sends a shiver of forbidden excitement down her spine, but not as much as the whisper of leather through the loops of his pants. Her fingers clench tightly in the sheets while she waits, breathless with anticipation.

His belt trails over her ass. “Beg me to give you what you need.”

She’s never had to beg for her punishments. Gorim always gave them to her, _delighted_ in giving them to her. She whimpers softly, but when the belt trails between her legs she can’t help but turn her face to the side.

“Please,” she whispers, “please whip my ass.”

“Just your ass, slut?”

“Anything.” She presses back into the teasing touch of leather. “Use me. Make me scream. Please. _Please_.”

“I’m not sure you mean it, Princess,” he taunts cruelly.

Real fear that he’ll leave her desperate and needy, splayed over the bed like this, spikes through her voice. “I can take it. I want to take it. I’m a slut, a whore, I need to be trained. I need to be punished. I need-”

The crack of leather splits the air just before her scream rips itself from her throat. The welt on her ass throbs in time with her heartbeat and she feels it in every singing nerve.

“Thank me,” Dwyn orders, trailing the leather over her skin.

Sereda swallows. “Thank yo-”

She barely gets the words out before the next lash falls. Another pause until she stutters out her gratitude. “Thank you, sir.”

“That’s a good slut,” he praises. It brings a flush to her face just before the lash falls again. And again. He stops just long enough between each to wait for her to sob out her thanks before it falls again. The lashes cover her ass, her thick thighs, then climb back up over her back. Tears gather in her eyes, drip down her cheeks, and she holds onto the bed for dear life.

A part of her is frightened. He doesn’t know her, doesn’t care for her, has no reason not to flay the skin from her bones. But when she tries to mumble out a plea to stop he simply laughs and wrenches her up by her braids.

“I’m getting what I paid for, Princess,” he whispers in her ear, grinding his rock hard cock against her stinging ass until she whimpers. “And making your little cunt wet enough to take me when I fuck you. It’s a win-win. Besides, I haven’t even started on these tits.”

She shakes her head. He ignores her unspoken protest, hauling her up onto the bed and rolling her onto her back. She wails weakly as her abused skin rubs against rough sheets and he kneels above her.

He’s still mostly clothed and that just makes her feel _more_ vulnerable. He lifts his tunic briskly over his chest, revealing the thick muscles of his arms and torso decorated with both dense red hair and a warrior’s scars. He doesn’t bother with his pants, his cock is already out after all, his knife back in it’s sheath at his hip.

She trails her eyes over his form greedily while she squirms in both discomfort and arousal. Her legs spread in blatant invitation and he chuckles while he settles between them. She’s so busy admiring his body she forgets the belt in his hand.

Her mistake. It cracks through the air and bites into her tits and she screams, arms flinching to cover her chest before she remembers and grabs onto the covers again. “No-” she pleads.

“Thank me,” Dwyn growls. “Or I’m _really_ going to give you something to scream about.”

She sucks in a breath and blinks through the tears in her eyes. She _should_ stop it. Instead the words come out in a rasp. “Thank you.”

“Good whore,” he sneers.

He doesn’t take it easy on her, but she doesn’t want him to. As much as she’s flinching away from the lash, she’s also bending _towards_ it. Her cunt is so wet she can feel her slick on her thighs, smell herself in the air. Each blow tears a soft cry from her lips and sends a pulse of pure heat to her cunt until finally, _finally_ , Dwyn discards his belt and roughly grabs her reddened tits.

“This is where you belong, Princess.” Dwyn pinches her aching nipples until she whimpers, but at the same time her hips rock towards his cock, dragging it along her slick, sensitive lips until he groans. “On your back, in your proper place, selling this cunt for whatever we’ll pay for it.”

She nods, beyond shame, hips rolling up enticingly. He growls again, releasing her breast only to fist his hand in her braids and pull her lips posessively to hers. He claims them brutally, more teeth and tongue than anything sweet or tender. She opens up beneath his assault just as his fingers dig into her plush thighs and he thrusts forward.

His cock stretches her all at once, fills her so completely all she can do is groan. He doesn’t give her even a moment to catch her breath, hips hammering into her like she’s the cheapest whore in Dust Town. When he wrenches his lips from hers, his beard brushes against her chin just before his teeth sink into her tender neck and she sobs.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Take it, whore.”

She has to, she has no choice. But she feels pleasure rising as he fucks her and she chases it mindlessly while he slides in and out of her dripping wet cunt. She’s so close, so desperate, and-

He withdraws. She wails at the unfairness and he smirks unmercifully into her face. “I told you, Princess, I’m going to have fun with you.”

He pulls back, she feels his cock shift until it presses against her ass. She only has a second of shocked anticipation before he snaps his hips forward, burying himself in her ass with nothing but her own slick to aid him.

She screams and thrashes in his arms, helpless against his strength. It burns, it burns and stretches and _Ancestors_ she needs to come, but she’s aching and empty. He sets a brutal rhythm, one she feels in every inch of her, claiming her ass like it’s his.

And he paid for it, after all. It does belong to him.

She whimpers and Dwyn’s fingers brush against her aching clit while he fucks her. “Poor Princess…” he coos. “Not used to being denied, are you?”

“Please,” she begs helplessly. It trails off into another broken wail when he teases her with soft touches that get her _nowhere_ while he slams into her ass hard enough to drive incoherent cries from her lips.

He lets go of her to reach for his hip. He pulls his dagger from his side, still in its sheath, with an evil gleam in his eye. “You need all your holes filled?” he asks, almost politely. “I can help with that.”

Then, without warning, he twists and shoves the hilt of his knife into her cunt. She moans, muscles clenching as it thrusts inside her in time with the cock in her ass. It’s wrong, _so_ wrong. This is worse than all the toys Gorim made her take, but it feels so much better than anticipated. The curved wood pushes against the cock in her ass, makes Dwyn moan above her.

“You’re gonna come on it, slut,” he orders. “And I’m gonna fill up your royal ass with my seed. Then I’m gonna fuck your ass with this knife until I’m ready to fill your cunt. And finally I’m gonna cover that pretty face of yours.”

She whimpers, bucking into his thrusts, pleasure cresting again even as he whispers his filthy promises. He watches her writhe obscenely below him with a grin.

“Then tomorrow night, I’m bringing my boys up here. They earned a share of your cunt too. Maybe we can whip your tits and your ass at the same time until you beg us to stop. Then get a cock in every hole of yours and shut you up.”

Her orgasm takes her like a bolt of lightning, sudden and sharp. She screams and thrashes violently on both knife hilt and cock while her muscles clench and her nerves burn. Dwyn swears and buries himself in her body as she goes limp, filling her with warm seed.

She closes her eyes, panting, while he rolls off her. She feels suddenly bereft, empty, aching even as she’s full of his spend. She curls on her side, reaching for him with one arm although she doesn’t dare touch.

“Better rest up, Princess.” Dwyn pants, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “We're not done by a long shot.”

It’s the single best thing she’s heard since leaving Orzammar.

**Author's Note:**

> Direct from Pornzammar, with love, from: [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/)
> 
> May I recommend some more smut? Check out the rest of the ["Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition" Exchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2021_smutquisition)!


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